


Advanced Romance by Jaime Lannister

by CaptainTarthister



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Food Poisoning, Sexy Times, Smut, married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 05:36:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4992307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime romances his wife Brienne and succeeds. . .only to have it shooting out of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Proposal

Jaime Lannister didn’t like it one bit how Brienne kept going on and on about the new poet-in-residence of Kings University. He had heard everything, from the beginning when the English and Literature Department tasked her to head the committee, when she first drafted the letter of invitation, when she sent it, when that fucking Oberyn Martell replied, to her woes about his literary agent dragging his feet about convincing his client about living in the city of King’s Landing for three years, and on and on until the poet himself called Brienne and gave his agreement. She had shrieked her success over the phone to Jaime, who had to hold it at least a foot away from his ear. 

He thought that was the end of it. Oberyn Martell had taken the bit, he was a big fish caught after reeling him in for month and months. But Brienne still wouldn’t shut up about him. Now Jaime liked hearing his wife talk. Her voice was deep and round, driven to hyperbolic, almost girlish exclamations that was in direct contrast to her rough, oft-tumbled appearance. Professors weren’t known for being pulled together—it seemed a requisite of the job to look like something the cat dragged in. But where people saw dry, thin, messy, straw blond locks on his wife’s head, he saw a pale halo. Where they frowned over her tomboyish fashion choices of shirts rolled at the elbows, sweater vests, pants and Oxfords, he felt sweat trickling down his back, a lightness in his head and a dryness in his mouth that only eased when her startlingly very blue eyes looked at him. When she kissed him, he felt whole.

Right now, he was wondering if he should kiss her to shut her up. The problem was he liked listening to her. Too much. 

“---and Professor Martell told me, `If it please you, Brienne, may I call you Brienne? Please call me Oberyn. Or Obie.’ Jaime! Can you fucking believe it?” Brienne cried out from the bathroom where she was brushing her teeth. She left the sink to stand by the door, toothbrush in mouth as she continued talking. “I mean, this was the guy that I only used to read and study when I was a student and now, we’re `Please call me Obie.’ Oh, the Seven fuck me _hard,_ Jaime, but your wife was mere inches away from fangirling.” She held her thumb and forefinger a tiny distance apart to show him. “This close.”

Then she left to return to the sink, hiding those endless legs of hers. Jaime sighed from the bed as she continued talking. He rolled his eyes as she went on about how this fucking Martell’s poetry was `swoon-worthy’ when she was this “dumb high school kid” and she fancied herself in love with him. Jaime raised an elegant eyebrow in disapproval, frowning. 

“Don’t you leave me for a fucking poet, Brienne,” he told her a little too sharply. “Or I will end the little shit.”

Done, Brienne slipped out of the bathroom. She carried the scent of bath soap and toothpaste after her as she went to their bed. She had to smother a laugh at the disgruntled expression on his face. Jaime’s brilliant green eyes were narrowed, his face tight and frowning. Didn’t detract from his good looks, however, she thought. Jaime’s straight nose, sharp cheekbones, firm, slim lips and square jaw looked to be the work of a master sculptor. Though he was sitting in bed leaning against the pillows, there was no missing the broad span of his muscular shoulders and strong, wide chest, his narrow stomach, corded arms and long thighs and legs bunched with muscle. He was six-foot-two, an inch shorter than her, a small difference that she had not felt, not once.

“So who can I leave you for that you promise not to slay, hmm?” She joked, enjoying his deepening frown. She smiled at him, sweet and teasing despite her crooked teeth and too-pink cheeks. She dropped beside him and curled into the circle his arms formed toward her. 

His lips moved against her forehead. “Never leave me.”

She looked up at him. “Silly. Of course never. You’re mine, I’m yours.”

Though he held her to his chest, he continued sulking. “But you’re in love with that fucking poet.”

“There was no girl who wasn’t in love with Obie in college, even the lesbians,” she told him. “The guy is fire on paper.”

“This is not helping in keeping my confidence,” he grumbled. 

She kissed his stubbled cheek. “Tell me what I can do to convince you of my love,” she whispered.

He kissed her on the forehead. “Take off your clothes. _Ah! Brienne!”_

She hit him again on the shoulder. “Such a one-track mind.”

“Oberyn Martell may be fire on paper,” Jaime said, shifting so that she was tossed on her back and he was on top of her. His eyes twinkled. “But what is fire to the lion in your bed?"

“Uh-huh. That you are,” Brienne whispered as he rubbed his lips under her jaw. She closed her eyes.“My lion.”

Jaime’s kisses were both soothing and fiery. She felt her muscles slowly relaxing, sinking into the mattress, but there were parts of her, a lot of her, actually, that were tingling in anticipation for what he may do next. She opened her eyes to watch him as he raised her t-shirt so he could kiss her firm, wide stomach.  
She clutched at his hair. _“Jaime.”_

“All this talk about another man has brought me to a decision,” Jaime said, smiling up at her. His hands continued to coast on her skin, fingers tucking in the waistband of her worn track pants. 

Brienne tipped her hips up toward him. “Be my guest. You’re always welcome here.”

Jaime’s chuckles were a rich, throaty sound. “You are a dream, Brienne.”

Her hips were still angled up. “What the hell are you waiting for?”

“Oh, believe me, I’ll soon be sticking in my card in your slot,” he said, smiling hugely at the red that exploded from her face down to her chest. “But I want to tell you that tomorrow night, you will stop thinking of that damned Oberyn Martell. He knows only how to romance girls with pretty words. I create romance.”

“What are you going to do? But before you tell me, can you take off my pants?”

“Listen. I’m taking you out for a night out in town. You’ll wear a dress that will show the world your incredible, endless legs. We’ll watch a play, any play you want, and then we’re off to a very decadent, elegant, seven-course meal at your favorite Pentoshi restaurant. You can order the entire dessert menu. Hell, order the entire dessert menu because we’re burning the calories in a marathon fuckfest as soon as we get home.” He dipped a tongue in her navel, his eyes heating up as she arched toward his chest and his name fell in a whisper from her full lips. “How does that sound?”

“It sounds divine,” Brienne told him, her mouth falling open as he licked her in the navel again. “Yes, Jaime. _Yes.”_

“I knew you’d think so. Now let’s get your slot wet and ready to take my card,” Jaime said wickedly and pulled off her pants.


	2. Come With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise from Jaime

Formal events were not among Brienne’s favorite things. But they were still a part of a professor’s life, albeit intermittently. Fund-raisers, alumni dinners, cocktails—all events she dreaded and loathed and just barely survived for two hours. She was confident in a lecture hall, looking at every student in the eye, but in a small circle forced to make small talk, she faltered. That was putting it nicely—she failed.

So when Jaime told her he intended to take her to the gala night of her favorite opera, The Red Wedding, she was both thrilled and terrified. The Red Wedding was based on an actual historical event. Here, the King of the North, Robb Stark, was murdered at his uncle’s wedding, along with his wife, Talisa, and mother, Catelyn, by the Boltons and the Freys. Relations among the Starks, Boltons, Freys and Lannisters—who had ordered their murders—remained tense to this day. 

The opera was emotional and gut-wrenching, dark—something that Brienne didn’t gravitate too but the soaring music and the arias had never failed to stab her right in the heart, as if she were in the wedding herself. It was powerful and she had yet to watch a production with a dry eye. 

She would love to watch it but the gala? Knowing she would be resistant to any event that forced her in a place with too many people she didn’t know and in a dress, Jaime decided to slowly ease her into it. He did offer that they could watch something else, do something else, but Brienne biting her lip as she contemplated the choice to make was a sign that the battle was half-won. She always bit her lip when about to say yes.

Brienne had expected to go to the closet and dig out one of those dresses that had been made specially for her—that was one advantage of being married to a Lannister, you could have bespoke clothes—but Jaime told her she wasn’t going to be wearing any old thing. Now her husband was indulgent of her, he enjoyed spoiling her, much how her eyes glittered like a thousand sapphires and her face turned red when he forced a gift on her that he knew she would love but thought it too expensive, too impractical—something she didn’t deserve. Jaime was more than happy to prove to her she deserved everything beautiful and wonderful.

With that, he surprised her after her last class at four-thirty by standing on the front steps of the building, waiting for her, looking arrogant and too pleased with himself, beautiful. At thirty-eight, Jaime was still young and despite being married still considered by many women a prime catch. He stood right in the sun, in a way that it seemed the sun was his own light. His thick, blond, shoulder-length waves looked more golden, the green of his eyes darker yet also brighter. In his gray shirt with the sleeves rolled at the elbow, artfully faded jeans and worn but expensive combat-style boots, he looked like rugged and rough and downright sexy—not the vice-president of marketing and public relations of Lannister Industries. 

He was leaning against one of the pillars, scanning the faces of the crowd leaving the building for his wife and easily ignoring the women and some men who tried to catch his eye. Fools, he thought. Brienne was beyond compare. Nobody came close and he was a fucking idiot if he forgot that. 

Then he saw her. Cropped, straw-blond hair, blue eyes that stood out despite the distance, her strong, powerful form weaving through the crowd. She was wearing a white shirt under a black vest, khakis rolled above her surprisingly delicate ankles and on her feet, soft brown penny loafers. She was surrounded by a small group of students, each of them nodding at what she was saying, every now and then writing on their notebooks. Brienne at a lecture was electrifying—Jaime had little interest in literature and theory, except of course, when it concerned her. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her, listened to every word she said. Even now, as she stood in the center giving some clarifications on today’s lecture or an upcoming paper, she drew him like magnet.  
She had probably sensed him because suddenly, she was looking at him. Surprise colored her cheeks a deep pink before she gave him a quick, tiny smile and turned to a student who had asked her a question. Jaime grinned, liking how she blushed even more as he gazed at her. At last, she broke away from the group and went to him.

“Come here and kiss me,” Jaime said, tugging her by hand as soon as she was close enough. He hummed against her lips as she put a hand on his bearded cheek. Her kisses were shy as opposed to his hungry ones but they were as eager as his. 

“Jaime,” she whispered as his arms went around her waist and drew her closer. He chuckled against her mouth as her body heated up when he ground himself against her, letting her feel his arousal. 

“Somebody wants to say hello,” he joked, sliding his tongue past her lips, just for taste. 

They pulled away from each other. Jaime couldn’t help the thrill going through him at the sight of Brienne. There was a slumberous quality in her eyes, her face and neck were a sexy tomato and her lips looked fuller and thicker. She kept her hands on his chest, just as he kept his arms around her waist.

“This is a nice surprise,” she told him.

“This?” Jaime couldn’t resist joking with her and so rubbed against her. “I’m always hard for you.”

“Not that! I meant—gods, Jaime, why are you always teasing me?” Brienne said, looking exasperated. When he just smiled at her, she rolled her eyes. “What brings you here?”

“Well, I’m the first part of the surprise. But there’s more coming.”

“You’re the first part? But you’re the best part. My favorite part.” Brienne rested her forehead against his and Jaime sighed her name happily.

“I don’t know whether to weep for joy at such words or take you here now,” he admitted.

“ _Behave._ What have you got for your wife aside from that absolute monster in your pants?”

“You do know how to turn my head with compliments. Come with me. Or rather, we’re taking your car. I took the bus.”

“Where’s your car?”

“Left it in the office. Come on, I’m aging here,” he said, taking her hand. 

“I have things to leave in the office first.”

“Heavy, big things?”

“Student papers.”

“Just bring them with you. Please? Time is of the essence.”

He brought herh and to his lips as he said this, not missing a step as they walked. Brienne meanwhile had to stumble after him.

They went to the faculty parking lot, where Brienne’s silver SUV with the bluish sheen, Oathkeeper, was parked. Jaime had her turn over the keys to him, explaining that she needed to just sit back and relax. “You are the dream,” Brienne told him gratefully, kissing him on the cheek before she went to the passenger side.  
Brienne was tired. She tossed her bag on the backseat and reclined her seat slightly. She closed her eyes in relief but she didn’t nap—no, Jaime wouldn’t let her. Because his lips were on hers, one hand behind her nape and the other cupping a small breast through her clothes. 

She moaned, throwing herself towards the tide of his kisses. There was no resisting her husband, she never wanted to. “Jaime,” she groaned as he slipped a hand under her shirt and squeezed first one breast then the other. “Gods.”

“Let’s hop in the backseat and fuck,” he told her, licking her behind the ear, sucking at her collarbone. 

“We won’t fit.”

“Your legs definitely won’t. Ah. Logistics.”

“Jaime, I thought we had to rush?” She asked, still in the throes of their kiss. 

“Damn it,” he complained. “Argh. Next time, I’m going to invent an emergency to get you out of class early so that we can fuck before I unearth another surprise.” 

She giggled at his disgruntled expression, and how he clearly did not want to remove his hand from under shirt. He leaned his forehead against her cheek, whispered a very dirty, very sexy deed he wanted to do to her right now if they weren’t pressed for time and not in a confined space and away from the public. She laughed but blushed, shaking her head at the very idea. 

Jaime winked at her as he started the car. “Trust me, once we do it, you’d want us to do it again. Quite a lot.”

“You said that about feathers, Jaime. You ended up sneezing the whole night. What you're suggesting will damage the sheets. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the title a bit. Used to be Advanced Romance 501 by Jaime Lannister. Now it's just Advanced Romance by Jaime Lannister


	3. Afternoon Delight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne get it on before he pulls off another surprise.

Jaime’s first surprise was pulling up in front of Kingsland Hotel. As they waited for valet, he told her that they would be spending the weekend here. He grinned at her squawk because she thought he only meant to take her out. As they stood before the reception desk waiting to be checked in , Jaime wrapped his arms around her waist and whispered in her ear, “I mean to lay the city at my girl’s feet.”

“I’m not a girl,” she whispered back, her breathing fast because his lips were nuzzling her neck.

“No,” he agreed. His emerald eyes flashed when she turned to look at him. “You’re my wife.”

After they were brought to their five-thousand-dragon-a-night suite, Jaime grabbed Brienne by the collar of her shirt and used it to drag her down for a deep, open-mouthed kiss. Head spinning, Brienne sighed happily in between kisses, running her fingers through his thick, blond hair. Jaime growled and pulled up on of her legs to his hip, pressing his erection against her. 

“I need to fuck you,” he whispered as she kissed him. 

“Fuck me,” she begged, taking his hands and putting them on her breasts. Her head fell back as he squeezed. _“Jaime, fuck me.”_

“We’ll have to do it in the tub,” he told her, taking the tip of her ear between his lips and sucking it.

“Why?” she gasped, clinging. Then she gasped again when she felt his hands begin to divest her of her pants. Still dumbfounded, she let Jaime push her at the foot of a king-sized bed covered in silk sheets. Jaime shot her a lascivious grin as he knelt before her pulled off her shoes.

“I’ve scheduled us for an in-room massage,” he said matter-of-factly, cradling one of her big feet in his hands before he tugged at the bottom of her pants. Instinctively, Brienne lifted her hips. “But they won’t be coming for another thirty minutes. I thought we could have a bath before then. You love baths with me, after all.”

Brienne nodded, blushing. She had been red from their quick makeout session in the car and she was strawberry-red now, sitting before him in only her shirt and underwear. Well, only her shirt now—Jaime’s hands, quick as ever, had gotten rid of the scrap of white cotton with her pants.

“And I love you,” she told him, smiling gently at him.

He raised himself a bit to kiss her on the lips and whispered, “Lie back so I can show you how much I love you.” As Brienne shook her head, 

thinking how outrageous her husband always was, he added, his emerald eyes darkening with heat as he swept her legs far apart, “I want to taste my wife before I fuck her in the bath.”

He did as promised. She was too weak in the knees to stand up after the devastation of his tongue hungrily lapping at her cunt. Smug, Jaime carried her to the bath. Amidst bubbles and salts, he made love to her, in between harsh grunts in her ear of how good she felt and how she was still _so tight_. She was a useless puddle in the aftermath and was once again carried her husband. How he could still be standing and laughing was maddening. He trailed kisses down her back and was sucking at the firm skin of her bottom when a soft bell chimed. 

Brienne groaned while Jaime finished. He grinned at the red marks on her taut backside before he stood up to let the masseuses in.

This time, Brienne refused to be led to her massage bed and Jaime had pretended to pout. 

The massage was almost as relaxing as fucking—nothing felt as good as her husband on her and in her—and Brienne easily surrendered to the firm, careful kneading on her back. She fell asleep almost immediately, and had to be roused gently by the masseuse’s singsong voice to turn over so her front could be massaged next. Again, she must have fallen asleep because the next thing she knew, she was in bed tucked under Jaime’s chin. She rubbed her lips against his jawline before drifting off again. 

Then she was being rudely awakened by a screaming telephone. Jaime, the first to wake and a bit more alert, mumbled an apology as he picked it up. He kept an arm around Brienne as he shifted a bit to the right, taking her with him, as he said, “Hello? Yes. Thank you for calling.”

Brienne had snuggled against his armpit while he spoke. He chuckled as her nose tickled him and the dark gold curls there and he shook her. “Get up, lazybones.”

“No. I’m happy here.” She threw a heavy arm and a heavier leg around him. Jaime groaned and she smirked. 

“I imagined this happening much later,” he pretended to complain.

“What are you up to again, Lannister?” 

He shot her a warm, sexy smile, all even white teeth and deep dimples. 

“I told you,” he chided her, “I’m taking you out for a night in town. The opera, dinner then fucking on a silk bed way into the morning. I thought that interested you.”

Brienne sat up, holding the sheet to her breasts. Her short hair stuck out in all directions and her eyes were a drowsy blue. A red flush remained on her cheeks and her mouth was red and fuller, still swollen from their kisses. Jaime thought she looked best after ravished thoroughly and felt himself begin to harden. Unaware of her effect on him, she asked, “But who was calling?”

“The dress shop.” When Brienne frowned, he took her hand and kissed it. “You’ll like this surprise, I promise.”

“You’ve done so much already. It’s ridiculous.”

“Your husband is not known for moderation, Mrs. Lannister. Now get off the bed or you will ruin my other surprises for you.” He sighed loudly, looking at the tented sheet. “Even if it kills me.” 

 

 

Okay, so it wasn’t really ridiculous that her husband did this for her, Brienne conceded as she stood in front of the mirror of the fitting room. She peered at herself critically before the glass. 

Dresses were not among her favorite things. With her broad, muscular, six-foot-three frame, the wisps and bits and swirls of fabric often looked ridiculous and emphasized how unfeminine she was in looks and manners—why dresses always cut off circulation was probably the mode from the very beginning. Shirts and slacks, t-shirts and jeans, now, those were not only comfortable, she felt herself in them.

But tonight’s dress was different. Being married to a Lannister meant riches, which meant people throwing themselves at your feet to create and bring you only the best. She often admonished Jaime for having some designer over to take her measurements and return two days later with sketches, followed by awful fittings where she was pinned and assessed and flattered. The result was almost worth it—a dress that not only fit her but one that still encouraged breathing and somehow did not make her look like a man in drag.

This dress was something else. She was herself in it.

“Is everything to your satisfaction, Mrs. Lannister?” She was being assisted by a young woman named Ros. She was the manager.

Brienne could only nod, unable to find words. She was still shocked this happened.

“Your husband is waiting for you.”

Jaime, she thought, turning around. “Yes.”

“You’re very lucky. I wish someday a man would be as devoted to me. Have a good night, Mrs. Lannister. He’ll be waiting for you at the bar.”  
Brienne, wide-eyed, swallowed hard and took the first step out of the dressing room.

The dress shop was not crowded with shoppers but the few people there all turned their heads to look at Brienne as she walked. A scarlet flush climbed to her cheeks as she walked, hoping she didn’t trip, hoping she didn’t embarrass Jaime. Ros and her staff bid her goodbye, giving her friendly waves as they did. Brienne managed a shaky smile that came off as a wince before she exited the double glass doors and towards the lobby.

Jaime, Jaime, Jaime, she chanted in her head. Knowing her husband waited for her at the end of all this calmed and soothed her fraying nerves as she walked staring straight ahead. Every step she took meant another pair of eyes her way, looking at her from head to toe and probably thinking all sorts of mean thoughts. She liked the dress, she liked herself in it, but more often than not, people thought they knew better and the exact opposite. 

At last, after a seemingly long walk, she saw the door of the bar.

Brienne took a deep breath and entered.

A piano player was playing a soft ballad that teased the ears. He inclined his head toward the Brienne and shifted his gaze to the bar. Brienne, curious, followed it. 

Jaime sat with his back to her. Her blue eyes warmed as they tracked his gold-blond hair brushing his broad shoulders. He was dressed in a black suit, tailored to emphasize his broad shoulders and wide back. Brienne, feeling a sudden surge of confidence, strode forward.

But she took only a few steps. The bartender glanced up wiping glasses and he smiled at her. Blushing, Brienne lowered her head, willing Jaime to notice her. When she raised her head, she saw that he had turned around to look at her.

She will never be beautiful, Brienne thought as his eyes glinted with frank male appreciation taking her in from head to toe, but he wanted her and loved her. He will always love her.

Jaime stood up, hoping he didn’t fall over. Swallowing, he took a step towards Brienne.

Every little thing about her (and she wasn’t little in the first place) affected him deeply. Whether it was the lines that formed between her eyebrows as she lay on the couch reading, her long legs hanging off the other end, or when a lock of her pale blond hair fell over her cheek, he found himself lightheaded yet also sure-footed. And that was when wasn’t doing anything special. 

She was going to kill him, Jaime thought, both proud and aroused as he walked toward her. How on earth could she be real? How could her eyes get any bluer and look at him, love him by just looking at him? He wanted to crash to his knees and worship at her feet forever. Instead, he soldiered through the last few inches, wanting, needing to touch her. 

Brienne was a sight to behold, magnificent in the asymmetrical dress he had picked for her. It was the exact shade of her eyes, though her eyes shimmered brighter. It was a dress a lesser woman couldn’t have pulled off. First, it showed skin. Lots of it. Her bared freckles beckoned to be mapped with his lips and he was definitely doing that tonight for hours and hours. Then, the dress embraced her body, almost like a lover. It emphasized the strength of her broad shoulders, bared the toned length of her arms. A slit revealed well-muscled, infinitely long, long legs and more freckles. At the end of her legs were feet encased in black, peep-toe stilettos. 

“Brienne,” he said upon reaching her. He had to reach for her hand. Looking at her, eating her up, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed each finger deeply. “You’re breathtaking.”

Her cheeks heated to that lovely pink that made his pants even tighter. He smiled and drew her closer until he could rest his face against her throat. She was much taller than him now in her heels. She moaned as he nuzzled her throat before he reluctantly stepped back and looked up at her.

“You did good,” Brienne said, gesturing at her dress. “I like this.”

“I love you.” 

She smiled and lowered her head to kiss him. He cupped her face and quickly transformed that innocent brushing of lips with one that was consuming and all heat. He relished the moan dragged out of her. 

“We should stop,” he said, pulling away. Though he was grinning, there was no denying the sensual promise in his eyes. “Else we’ll just end up back in the room. People should see you. I _want_ people to see you.”

“Well, there is a lot to see,” she said, looking down at herself. She had clearly misunderstood him.

“Not nearly enough,” Jaime told her. “And the world needs to know of you.”

When she looked unsure, he kissed her hand again. “I want people to know how wonderful you are.”

Her eyes softened. “Jaime. You shouldn’t force people to see me as such—“

“Who said I’ll be forcing them. I don’t have to. Everyone in the bar is looking at you. And,” he said with a growl, “jealous that you keep your eyes on me.”

“No. They’re looking at you.”

“I’m afraid that you’re mistaken. Now. We can debate the entire night or I actually get to take you out and wow you with my romantic moves. What will it be?”

Brienne would like to go back to the bedroom. But Jaime had planned this day and everything and she knew it pleased him to please her. She nodded and put her hand around his elbow.

“Good answer. But, I confess, a small part, well, not exactly small, you would know, wanted you to say the bedroom—“

Brienne laughed loudly. “Shut up, Lannister. You promised to romance me. Let’s go.”


	4. The Night Is Ours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter. 
> 
> Hope you find it hot!

When Jaime helped Brienne out of the Town Car hired for the night, it was easily noted that he had a smug, very satisfied grin on his face while her eyes were brighter than usual and her face was a vivid, deep crimson. A crowd had gathered in the lobby of the Westeros Metropolitan. The women were in dresses tailored especially for tonight, the men wore sleek tuxedos. They were talking about the upcoming opera season when the Lannisters entered. Soon, they were talking about the contrasting facial expressions Jaime and Brienne wore.

Brienne fiddled with the strap of her gown. Her cheeks flaming even more, she hissed at Jaime, “I can’t believe you did that.”

“I can’t believe I did only that,” Jaime told her, insolent and unapologetic as ever. He had an arm around her waist as he looked at her. “Gods, I’d be sure to do it again.” And he cast a suggestive look at her breasts. Brienne frowned and itched to slap him. Not to hurt him but to wipe off that arrogant look on his face. 

“I’d have gone down on you too if you let me,” he continued. “I can still smell you on my fingers.”

This time, Brienne wished the floor would open up and suck her in. “Jaime, _don’t.”_

“What? I like having you on my fingers. And my mouth. I am sorry for putting you in that state,” he glanced at her breasts again. “But silk should be gentle even on the most sensitive skin.”

“Jaime,” Brienne said, exasperated. “Sometimes, I do wonder why I haven’t put a knife through you. You’re—“

“A lion in the sheets?”

_“Incorrigible.”_

“Of course I am. I have to say, this is the first time it’s happened, Brienne. I only have to look at you and your panties get soaked--”

Brienne’ eyes widened. _“For the love of—“_

“But it’s having my cock in you that makes you—“

“Jaime, I swear if you finish that sentence—“ _Oh gods, if someone overheard them._ They were in the middle of the fucking crowd. In the middle of the fucking crowd of Kingsland’s high society!

“I am sorry for asking you to be quiet while enjoying your delicious tits but not so sorry because you—“

Brienne rolled her eyes and kissed him. That shut him up. 

Jaime hummed happily. _“Came,”_ he whispered and resumed kissing her.

Brienne pinched him on his side. She smirked as he yelped against her lips. Retaliating, Jaime bit at her lower lip lightly before sucking it. Hard. By the time he pulled away, Brienne's eyes were heavy-lidded and her mouth looked more swollen. It seemed to take up half her face. Jaime's own lips tingled too.  
The countdown towards the opera began. People started to head for the theatre itself, tickets whipped out to check their assigned seats. Jaime, once again smug, led Brienne towards their box seats. He kissed her hand as they walked.

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” she said with a long-suffering sigh that made him laugh.

“You love me.”

“The Seven help me but I do. Gods, I do.” 

Another couple was already at the box seat when they got there. They were acquaintances of Tywin. Brienne hid a giggle as Jaime rolled his eyes at her at the pleasantries he had to make. “We’ll talk during intermission, maybe. But it’s good to see you, Clegane,” he said to the towering Sandor Clegane and his young, auburn-haired wife. 

“That wasn’t too rude,” Brienne remarked as they sat down. 

“This is our night,” Jaime said. He found them Galilean binoculars. Brienne’s delighted smile was so endearing that Jaime couldn’t help kissing her again. He pulled her to his chest and Brienne cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Is this allowed? Cuddling at the opera?” She asked in a stage whisper.

“I’ll cuddle my wife anytime and anywhere,” Jaime said arrogantly. 

Brienne tweaked him on the nose with her finger. Her eyes soft, she whispered. “Oh, you.”

“Indeed.”

As the theatre darkened and music began to play, she whispered in his ear, “Just in case I forget to tell you, Jaime, I had a good time tonight.”

 

A few hours later, Brienne burst through the door of their suite, red-faced and laughing boisterously. Jaime was right behind her, also flushed and laughing. 

“Oh, Lannister, you do know how to show a girl a good time,” Brienne teased him, putting her arms around his shoulders. There were significant pauses between her words. 

“You’re no girl,” he said, his voice a little slurred. He growled in her ear. “You’re my wife.”

“Oh, yes! Yes, I am!” Brienne exclaimed, raising her arms in the air in triumph. Jaime threw back his head and laughed. “Whoo-hoo!”

“You’re drunk!”

“So are you!”

The Red Wedding was always heartbreaking and speared you right in the gut. Brienne was in tears by the time it ended. Jaime found himself sniffling too. After all, his ancestors had ordered the death of the Starks. They looked at each other and kissed deeply before rising from their seats.

After being forced to make small talk with more acquaintances on their way out, Jaime and Brienne all but ran and dove back in their Town Car.  
All throughout dinner, Brienne had looked at Jaime as if he were a god. _That she would like to fuck._ His wife was wonderfully transparent. Unskilled in seduction, Brienne would just go ahead and surprise him with sexy kisses, or literally throw herself at him. Jaime was always too pleased to catch her and lose himself in her eager kisses. Brienne was a heady mix of shy and unabashed. 

Brienne was clearly thinking of having his babies as he ordered their dinner in fluent Pentoshi—which also impressed their server. Her eyes ate him up and Jaime hammed it up. He liked it when she stared at him, loved it more when she looked at him with clear desire. He made sure to give her lots of smiles and kisses as they ate, and when desserts came (he was the one to order the entire menu), he pulled her closer. With his arm around her waist, they forked bits of the sweet, tarty desserts into each other’s mouths.

“Am I succeeding, Mrs. Lannister?” He asked, using his finger to scoop a rich, pink cream from the plate. He held his finger toward her red lips.  
“In what?” She asked, staring at the cream on his finger. Her lips were half-parted and a blush colored her cheeks beautifully. She looked at Jaime.

He wagged his eyebrows at her. The result was her cheeks burning even more. 

“Romancing you. Making you forget that fucking Martell. Obie, he wants you to call him— _ah,”_ he groaned when Brienne licked his fingertip and bit him. His cock swelled in his pants.

“Martell who?” She teased him.

He grinned at her. “Good answer.”

Back in the car, they made out like frenzied teenagers. The partition screen shielded them from their driver but it certainly didn’t make the backseat soundproof. Thus, the entire drive was filled with heavy thumps of a body crashing against one side, and then another body landing on the other. Their tussling sounded violent and painful if not for the occasional moan and breathless cries for more. 

Since she had more than a glass of champagne, Brienne was very uninhibited. She filled Jaime’s ear with filthy suggestions of what she wanted him to do to her. He begged her to stop. Not only could they not do any of them in the confined space, it was a real struggle to not fuck her in the car. He felt a little dizzy from the effort. But Brienne won't listen and continued to tease him. When she told him about something he must _absolutely_ do to her, he jacknifed from the seat and roared, _"What? You want me to fuck you where?"_

It was an outrageous, very un-Brienne of his wife to say but _fuck_. He was turned on.

Now Brienne was pulling him behind her and pushing him down the bed. Jaime sank down, the upper half of his body on the mattress, his legs and feet on the floor. 

“You made me feel so good earlier,” Brienne told him. Jaime propped himself up on his elbows and was treated to the godsdamned sexy sight of his wife stripping. “Now it’s your turn to feel good.”

She unzipped the dress and it fell in a single, heavy swoop to her ankles. Jaime swallowed, disbelieving of the goddess standing before him. 

Tousled, straw blond hair, a teasing gleam in her sapphire eyes, a deliciously wicked smile on her full lips. Her small, high breasts were tipped with nipples still red and swollen from his earlier indulgence. Jaime wanted to lick at the freckles splashed across her chest, down her taut belly. He wanted to squeeze her wide hips, suck at the inner skin of her hard thighs. He wanted those long legs of hers wrapped tight around him all night. And those freckles. Damn it. He wanted to lick them all. 

Brienne stepped away from the puddle, kicking off her shoes as she went. one of them knocked off a lamp. Jaime laughed while Brienne covered her reddening face withh her hands. "None of that," he told her. "Come to me. I want you."

Brienne nodded and dropped her hands. She winked at Jaime as she played with the narrow waistband of her lacy blue panties before sliding them down her phenomenal legs. Finally, she was naked. Jaime’s mouth watered at the sight of the dark, glistening curls guarding her cunt. 

He licked his lips. “I want to make you feel good again.”

“Later,” Brienne promised as she dropped to her knees between his legs. Her eyes were huge. “Okay, Jaime?”

She unzipped his pants. Jaime raised his hips as she pulled them off then his boxers. Her breath kissed his straining cock, stirred the curls. “Your cock is so beautiful. _And soo big.”_

He groaned. “Gods, Brienne—“

And lost track of what he wanted to say a second later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The line Brienne uses at the end of the scene at the theater comes from Pretty Woman.
> 
> I've never ready any of the ASOIAF books. So whether the language in Pentos is Pentoshi or the Common Tongue or neither, I wouldn't know. In this world, I pretend that it is. Throw me a comment or two, my awesome readers!


	5. The Long Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit happens.

Rough pants filled the room minutes later. Jaime was limp from the force of his orgasm. Brienne, her head resting against his lean, hard thigh, felt hot and a little dizzy. She closed her eyes as Jaime played with the short locks of her hair with his fingers. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and sighed. 

“Come up here,” he whispered, pulling her up. Brienne stretched over him. They kissed, lazily, softly, gently running their tongues against each other. Jaime suddenly rolled so she was under him. Brienne gasped,squeezing her eyes shut. She grimaced.

“What? What’s the matter?” Jaime asked, stopping. She opened her eyes.

His hair stuck out in all directions and there was a wild look in his eyes. But he touched her shoulder with concern.

“It’s nothing,” she told him. “Just…felt a little dizzy for a bit there. Probably too much sugar. Or the champagne.”

He laughed and put his head between her breasts. Her arms automatically went around him.

“Yeah, what happened to you tonight?” He joked. 

“Romance, Jaime Lannister-style.”

He picked himself up off her. His weight on his hands, he brushed his lips against her. Brienne wasn’t embarrassed. While the courteous thing to do would be to excuse herself and wash her mouth first, she knew Jaime wouldn’t let her. He liked tasting himself on her, just as she did. She moaned as he lightly scratched her nipple with his fingernail. He soothed it with a gentle flick.

“Jaime,” she whispered as his lips left her to kiss her cheek, below the ear. She eased his shirt off his shoulders, baring his beautiful, golden skin. “Oh,” she moaned when he nipped at her jaw.

“I want to fuck you,” he declared, his voice rough and dark with want. “Just give me a minute.”

She caught his face in her hands. “Can we take it slow?”

He rubbed himself against her. “Gods. Of course.” 

Their lips met again. Brienne frowned, feeling her stomach beginning to cramp. Too much dessert, too much champagne. She clung to Jaime, her legs going around him to cross behind his hips. 

She was about to moan his name when a high-pitched tooting sound shattered. Brienne froze. Jaime’s eyes were big.

“Was that--?”

“Seven Hells,” Jaime swore, shoving away from her. Brienne frowned as he tripped over the clothes discarded on the floor as he ran to the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind him. A second later, there was the stomach-turning sound of something wet and explosive behind the door.

_“Fucking seven hells,”_ Jaime groaned like a man before the Stranger. 

Brienne was doubled over, laughing. But she paid for it a few seconds into her mirth. Clutching her stomach, she threw herself off the bed and pounded on the bathroom door. “Uh, Jaime, let me in." 

“Ah, shit. I’m not yet done.”

“I need to go!”

“What?”

“I need to go—, _open the fucking door!”_ Brienne screamed.

 

It didn’t matter that they were in a luxurious honeymoon suite where the walls are covered in silk wallpaper and the sheets are of the finest, delicate silk. Jaime complained that for five thousand gold dragons a night, there should be another bathroom. Brienne weakly told him that they also had only one bathroom in the apartment.

If they were not shoving each other out of the way to the toilet, they were harassing housekeeping with requests for rolls upon rolls of toilet paper until one of the staff left them an entire twelve pack. Brienne was the first to develop a fever and Jaime lowered the temperature of the air conditioner until it was better to leave it off. Still, she huddled under the comforter. He joined her under it and hugged her tight. 

Since it was supposed to be a weekend of fucking, Jaime had not packed much clothes, except for a change of underwear. Brienne wore only her shirt. She said the bathrobe felt too heavy. Jaime understood—he wore only his used boxers but was thinking of discarding them soon. 

They slept fitfully. After three hours of yelling and basically pummelling each other for toilet use, they collapsed shivering in bed, their bodies high with fever. Jaime lay beside Brienne but he also placed a waste basket next to him. He had thrown up twice already. With both of them too weak to head to the nearest pharmacy for medicine, they really only had each other. And the mini-bar. They were grateful the hotel was sensible enough to pack it with a lot of water aside from alcohol.

“My poor husband,” Brienne murmured. She lay with her head on his shoulder. Her hand rubbed gentle circles on his stomach.

“I’m so sorry this happened,” Jaime said, moving his lips along her sweat-dotted forehead.

“It’s not like you wanted this to happen,” she reassured him. “Go easy on yourself.”

“I’d kiss you right now. But I have to brush my teeth first.”

He smiled weakly as Brienne’s breathy giggle bathed his skin. “Just kiss me?”

“I would fuck you,” he agreed. “If only the motions won’t have me throwing up again.”

“So sweet.” She put her arm around his stomach. Jaime pulled her close to his side.

“How’s your headache?” 

“I think it’s eased a bit.”

“Still feeling hungover?”

“Shitting helps relieve it.” And he laughed because he felt her blush. He pinched her gently on the shoulder. “You remember what you told me in the car. . .those things. . .?”

Brienne buried her face in his armpit. _“Gods, Jaime.”_

“You remember?”

He prodded her to look at him. Both of them had bloodshot eyes but his were a fiery, teasing green while hers were a drowsy, sparkling blue. 

“Every word, Jaime,” she whispered.

“You meant them?”

“Uh. . .”

“Don’t tease me like that, Brienne.”

“I’m not sure. Especially with, you know. . .the one. . .that one.”

He feigned ignorance. “What’s so scary about smearing maple syrup on your cunt and having me lick it off? Are you worried I’ll miss a spot? I happen to very thorough--”

He roared with laughter as her face became a rich, vibrant red. “It’s not that! Jaime, you know that’s not it!”

Since he couldn’t kiss her mouth, he kissed her on the throat instead. She moaned his name. Then mock-punched him for making fun of her. Of course the maple syrup didn’t scare her. 

“We don’t have to do it right away. But I hope you’ll be open about it sometime?” He asked, reluctantly removing his lips from her.

She nodded. “Of course. Just not right away.”

“I’ll make sure you enjoy it.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“Only you,” he couldn’t help teasing her, “would be so polite and thank your husband who wants to do that absolutely filthy thing.”

They slept late, well into noon. They still went to the bathroom every now and then. Brienne ordered them tea and toast from room service while Jaime had his turn. When he was done, she saw that he had taken a shower. Wrapped in a robe, his hair was damp and he smelled soapy and divine. This time, Brienne’s stomach didn’t churn but it did get tied up in hot knots. She stuttered about the toast coming up and that she needed to get cleaned up. On her way, Jaime suddenly grabbed her.

He kissed her deeply and obscenely on the mouth. Her head fell back, swooning at the taste of toothpaste. He palmed her bare buttocks, squeezing them. She moaned. “My filthy wife,” he whispered, grinning at her before pulling away. Brienne barely felt the carpeted floor under her feet as she stumbled to the bathroom as if drunk.

Brienne sighed as the steam from the shower filled the stall. She washed her hair, lathered bath gel on her body. When she came out, she was wrapped in a robe and was flushed pink from head to toe. She gave Jaime a small, shy smile when she discovered the food they had ordered was already laid out on the table. Her cheeks flamed when she saw his eyes had gone dark with desire.

“You look good enough to eat,” he growled, beckoning her to come forward. And she did look as if she had just been fucked well and good. He smiled as she approached and he tugged her down to sit on his lap. Smirking wickedly, he pulled down one side of the robe down her shoulder and wrapped his mouth around the pink peak of her breast. It tasted of Brienne and soap. 

“Jaime,” she whispered, moving against him, pushing her breast deeper in his eager mouth, “Jaime, fuck me.”

“Let’s get some food in you first—“

“No,” she insisted. She grabbed his hand and put it between her thighs. His eyes almost rolled to the back of his head at the wet discovery there. “Fuck me now.”

She laughed as he shot off the chair and placed her none too gently on the floor. Her kiss cut off his throaty apology—the floor was carpeted, it didn’t hurt—and her hands soon got to work, freeing his magnificent body from the robe, feeling his muscles, his skin. She gave his cock a brief squeeze before rubbing it, just the way he liked it. Jaime looked very much like a lion as he yanked her robe open and bared her body before his hungry eyes. 

Blushing and biting her lip, she opened her legs. 

“Seven Hells, Brienne,” Jaime groaned in pleasure as he positioned himself. His cock in his hand, he rubbed the tip against her swollen clit, wetting it with her juices and thrust. 

It wasn’t the best—they were both still weak and yes, hungry—but it was satisfying enough. Brienne was still panting, clearly still tensed, when Jaime, having found relief, pulled out and replaced his cock with his fingers. He swallowed her cry with a kiss as she jerked against him, her legs clamping tight around his hand. His fingers remained deep in her cunt as she sagged on the floor, legs spread wide now. He licked her lips before dropping his head on her shoulder. She mewled in protest when his fingers slid out. 

“Some romantic weekend this is,” Jaime said. He placed kisses along her arm as he spoke.

“What are you talking about?” Brienne asked him. “It is.”

“I made us sick with the cheese course and who knows what else. And I’m pretty sure at one point you came close to murdering me to use the toilet.” Jaime nuzzled his nose against the side of her breast and kissed it. “I’m sorry about that.”

“I’m not. I think it’s romantic that you looked ready to die to let me use the toilet,” she said, smiling at him.

Jaime smiled back. “I _was_ dying.”

“Shut up. You know what I mean.” Brienne turned so she was facing him. Playing with the rough, golden hairs of his chest, she continued, “It was romantic that you nagged housekeeping to cough up more toilet paper. And you kept the temperature in the room low.” A rich, scarlet flush suddenly spread around her face as she whispered, “You didn’t complain with how the bathroom smelled after I used it. That was romantic.”

“You and I have very different notions of romance,” Jaime told her, pulling her to his chest. "And I believe I made a huge contribution to the rankness in the bathroom. Both ends, in case you forgot." They laughed together, their bodies shaking hard. Brienne shifted closer to him, feeling happy and loved. He added, "You also held my hair while I threw up. Yeah, I have to agree. That was romantic."

“It’s not chocolates and flowers all the time, Jaime. I don’t need them. It’s being with each other through the shits. Literally, in our case. And still thinking—“

“I can’t wait to fuck her?” His eyes twinkled.

Brienne burst out laughing again as Jaime rolled over so he was above her. “Gods, again?”

“Again,” he promised, kissing her. His lips trailed down her body. “And again. And again. And again. ”

“Next time,” Brienne gasped as Jaime nipped at a particularly sensitive spot below. “We’re skipping dessert.”

“Don’t know why we bothered, honestly. You are my favorite treat.” Jaime resumed kissing her lips. “Your mouth is the first course. Or is it your eyes? And your tits. And fuck, your cunt—“

“Um, Jaime.” Brienne could feel sense leaving her. That was the only explanation for what she wanted to ask. “That—that thing I said—“

“Hmm? You’re _so delicious.”He bit her playfully and sucked at the skin._

“In the car?” He licked her. Brienne arched toward his mouth. 

“Hmm. Yes, Brienne?”

“Can we do it when we get home?”

He pushed himself up so he could rest his chin on his fist. He caressed her breasts as he spoke.

“You know. You have a way of making dirty requests sound like the sweetest thing,” he said, grinning. “Where did you learn that from, I wonder?”

“That's all me. But my husband taught me romance,” she answered. “He’s big on it. I sense he’s going to make this dirty request of mine very romantic.”

His eyes shone with love.“Oh, he will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! That's the end! Thank you for your comments and reading!

**Author's Note:**

> PhD/ Advanced level courses are either preceded by a 3, 4, or a 5., I think.  
> Inspired by Harry and Charlotte from Sex and the City.


End file.
